


Why Here? Why Now?

by THA_THUMPP



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Implied Mpreg, Kinky, M/M, Mindfuck, One Shot, Psychological Torture, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/THA_THUMPP/pseuds/THA_THUMPP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Castellanos is going mad. He's having vivid visions of those who died in the Hospice and he feels their suffering, their pain - <em>all their pain</em> - and little does he know is that Ruvik is watching... What a fucking sadist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Here? Why Now?

**Author's Note:**

> It went something like this: installed the game day one - browsed through the trophy titles and read the descriptions - saw one that inspired us [Home Is Where The Hospice Is] and started writing - earned the trophy and started writing some more - then BAM... This fanfiction was born.

A vision.

It had happened once before, downstairs when Sebastian first entered Valerio Jimenez’ office. Images, memories washing over him – _through him_ like nausea after he stabbed Marcelo’s brother. And nothing prepared Sebastian for the rush, no forewarning or explanation why he even saw what he did either.

Just _boom_. After the initial stab, a flash, fast thinking and a haze, Sebastian was looking through Valerio’s eyes. The detective knew it was Marcelo’s brother because he recognized the reflection in the autopsy table, remembered seeing the man’s face on a missing person’s somewhere before – on the newsstand beyond the mirror like his very own collection of mislaid victims.

Like the corpse that was stretched atop the metal slate and laid for clumsy fingers. Only a body for dissection, but to Sebastian it was something he could tamper with, more like the luminary of his vision – the good doctor Jimenez, could tamper with. All hunched over the slab among the rancid smell of medicine and death, trapped and surrounded by hanging sheets and the aroma of decay.

It wasn’t pleasant, a sensation that amplified all tastes, the sounds, the smell— _especially_ the smell, and Sebastian can vividly remember his chokes.

The way his hands reached out for the stretcher to use as a crutch, the way he fumbled over each and every bloody instrument caked in God-knows-what before he looked down at the floor – which was no better, and that was when the itching and scratching started.

A moment in time put to rest, but Sebastian can still hear the airy, high-pitched ringing even now. A ringing that drove Valerio mad, which, back then, had Sebastian grabbing his head just like the deceased doctor in the vision…

Just like now.

 _I’ve heard this sound before,_ Sebastian thinks. No, he _knows_ he has. The earliest being in the squad car over the radio when responding to the call about Beacon Memorial with Connelly and Kidman. Joseph too.

And just like that time, even though Sebastian can’t see him – Ruvik’s there, watching from the shadows and smiling to himself, approvingly, when he sees the detective almost buckle in pain with an unsteady step.

The ache on his face… it’s beautiful. _He’s beautiful_.

Detective Sebastian Castellanos. The man has spunk, every bit of what Ruvik can expect from a city detective. The classic trench, the little bit of scruff peppering his jaw, and a voice chalk full of smokes and whiskey. Not to mention the eyes, narrow like a scope, like he knows where he wants his attention.

The same goes for Ruvik.

Except he has his sights set on Sebastian’s mind, within Sebastian’s mind – all the evil within. The good, the bad, the failures. Because being a detective he has to have some, right?

 _Weaknesses_.

Flaws and regrets. Ruvik wants to know them all. He wants to know what Sebastian desires, what he disgusts… _Everything_ , the filth, because with that knowledge it’s only a hop, skip and a jump to break the man’s psyche. The psyche of psychos. Of anyone, for that matter, some just need to look a little deeper than what’s on the outside – like what Ruvik’s doing right now.

He’s looming over and looking down Sebastian’s throat as the man chokes again, all the while still hidden from the human realm, from the detective’s eyes – which are nailed shut with every hammer of his heart, his teeth clenched and tightening with his stoop.

Sebastian can’t keep his own voice from spilling from his lips. It slips out like a fly in a jar, in all manners of grunts and groans. Except it’s the moans that burn his throat the most, feeling as if someone’s striking a match against his esophagus. He’s on fire, this time his whole body, and he desperately wants to be quiet.

No. Sebastian _needs_ to be quiet, otherwise the Haunted stalking the rest of the Hospice will hear him – which’s as bad as it sounds. But no matter his intentions, Sebastian can’t stifle his cries of agony. He can feel something inside his head trying to weasel out, trying to poke from beneath the surface.

Another vision? But of what? Better yet… _who_?

 _Shit._ Sebastian curses in a pant when the hurt only worsens, to the point that his head feels like it’s on the verge of splitting open, his lungs squeezing from all his swearing and huffing. Huffs that only edge Ruvik on – _turn_ _him on_ , especially with the way the detective’s sagging so close, dangling like meat on a hook.

Delicious meat. But Ruvik isn’t one for pleasantries. He’s more tempted by the idea of not letting Sebastian adapt to what’s in store for him – _to adapt to the pain_. Oh no, Ruvik can’t have that. Not yet. He needs to switch it, intensify it… And he does—

With the sudden _snap_ of his fingers.

Sebastian jolts with the sound although he never really hears it. It’s more like a sense, his sixth sense – his _detective’s_ sense, still as sharp as ever even though the world around him is falling apart and unrecognizable. And it’s then that Sebastian figures he knows how Leslie feels.

Leslie Withers. The poor kid who always seems to be running scared for his life – running like when Sebastian had first found him in the cave after the accident, the crashed ambulance. The same kid who he now catches a glimpse of in another split vision, one that has Sebastian questioning his own sanity once he breaks from it.

Why’s he seeing Leslie now? It doesn’t make any sense. None of it makes any goddamn sense. Maybe _he_ should be the one admitted to the Hospice when this is over?

A highly unlikely thought. But at the same time it’s almost eye-opening – about as eye-opening as a blinding light that whites the room, sparks out of nowhere, and seemingly pulls Sebastian deeper into the depths of his own mind. It feels like he’s switched bodies again, thrown into another tormenting memory, one that’ll no doubt drag him further down the path of insanity, and he wants to scream. To burn up, hell, to go up in flames and get it over with already – but just as he caves into limitation the light goes out.

For how long? Only time will tell, and Sebastian shivers as the darkness settles. A foreboding night, and when a draft slips through one of the room’s windows it’s more than enough to bury the chill he’s already feeling deeper into his bones, one moving to constrict his heart. To wreck his brain. Though despite the confusion, Sebastian’s still pretty grounded, reminding himself over and over again that none of what he’s seeing or feeling is real, and that he’s still at the Hospice…

But the mind is known for its playing tricks, so are the eyes, and that’s when Sebastian’s forced to bear witness to another vision. Except this one’s different than the other two and when Sebastian looks up he’s suddenly standing in front of a mirror – but it’s not his reflection he sees.

There’s woman staring back, her features sunken and appearance frail. Frail enough to affect Sebastian as well, and he doubles forward. But when his hands go out for support, for a table or chair nearby, they knock his stomach… which feels strange. Furthermore in _physical pain_ , and when he looks down he’s almost abhorred to see he’s pregnant.

Or at least the woman in this new vision is.

But right now, vision or not, reality or fiction, it’s all the same to Sebastian. Especially when the hurt’s enough to pass as real – to _feel_ real, and there’s no stopping a growl from rumbling from his throat.

 _This’s nuts,_ Sebastian broods. _This whole place, it’s fucked._

And with good reason. _Fucked_ is just what the doctor ordered, and Ruvik tilts his head, admiring the view and Sebastian’s growing stomach. He’s enjoying the autonomy of the visions he’s creating, the mental images he’s molding and making his own, all the while tinkering with the detective’s brain like a puppeteer would a puppet.

Yes. Sebastian’s his. _All his_ to do with as he pleases – his own little personal lab rat…

Ruvik materializes briefly to wrap his arms around Sebastian from behind, a hug that makes the detective feel like he’s being constricted by barbed wire. The slightest touches as ghostly as the lips pressed against his cheek in a baleful smile.

_“The things I’m gonna make you do.”_

Ruvik’s whisper is breathless – extremely sensual and direct – and it has the wrinkles of fieldwork deepening across Sebastian’s forehead, alongside the faint turn of his head, like he’s terrified to see what’s behind him. But eventually he succumbs to the curiosity.

“You…” Sebastian pants laconically, the very brevity when he first saw Ruvik on the live feed of the security cameras back at Beacon Mental Hospital. “Why are you doing this? I… I don’t even know you.”

His voice is tensed by dread, equally temper, and it has Ruvik’s mouth curling higher into a deft sneer as he disintegrates into darkness, like a fragmented thought fading from memory. The same goes for the visions, and when Sebastian slumps to his knees, normal, gasping, shaken and winded, he hears it…

A haunting vow. _Ruvik’s_ haunting vow.

_“You will.”_


End file.
